Here Comes the Bride!
by 91RedRoses
Summary: France was tired of England and Spain allows fighting so, using the Power of Love and no small amount of alcohol, joined them together through their adorable babies. Now those babies are all grown up and wondering how on earth they are going to deal with married life when the media, Nations, and people are so dead set against them. Rated M for language and some mature content.
1. Here Comes France with a Plan

Chapter 1: France Has a Plan…Run for Your Vital Regions!

_This is a story that originally belonged to Coffee-Flavored Fate as the first chapter of his collection known as __Antipasti__. The purpose behind this collection was a place to write out his plot bunnies of future stories that he planned to write once he had time. Well… I fell head over heels in love with this concept. I have literally dreamt about this story and so I messaged His High Holiness and begged to have a chance to write my own version of the story. I simply couldn't wait to read the story he had planned so I decided to write my own, with his permission. In his graciousness he granted unto this unworthy soul permission. So yea, the LORD doth decreed! Now, we have kind of agreed that we are using the same basic first chapter of set-up but from there on the paths will diverge so when he writes his version of this story, go read it too. It will be something you enjoy._

_Now… about Love Magic Madness… it has not been abandoned. I feel like if I start something else maybe as a change of pace I will feel like writing more chapters for it as well. So do not despair fans of mine from LMM, and no pick-axes, I cannot write under pressure of violence! That does not work with me at all._

Disclaimer: I don't own the original plot bunny, but I do have permission to use the idea and I do not own Hetalia. If I did, maybe I would have money. Alas, I am but a poor college student that is being drowned by homework from teachers that believe if I have a life, the Day of Doom shall come.

ON~WITH~THE~STORY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France was officially sick of their bullshit.

France was a Nation who stood on a few basic principles: Roses made appropriate underwear, wine was always the best thing to drink, English food was placed upon this earth as a curse from Satan, Love your neighbor (as often and in as many new positions as possible), and fashionable clothing was always a must. Of those principles, a discerning listener may note that "Fighter" was not one of his holy principles; let that dear listener not think it was because the Nation could _not_ fight (France could and would kick an ass seven ways from Sunday if necessary and look _fabulous_ while doing so), but more that he felt love and love-making was the truest way to solve all problems.

However…

His dearest Spain and England were not of such enlightened thoughts.

France let a sigh loose from his lips and fell (gracefully and with poise) into his chair. Even surrounded by the beauty that was his home he could not stop such dark, depressing thoughts from dampening his mood and giving his beautiful face wrinkles. He was truly out of sorts! His cooking lacked its usual verve and his interior decorating and re-decorating had lost its normal siren call. _Mon Dieu_, even going to look for new fashions and spending outrageous amounts of money on shoes was a bland affair!

Things could NOT continue!

He ran a hand through his (immaculate, clean, and gorgeous) hair before taking a sip of his wine to steady his nerves. Ah… 1550 was a very good year for this vineyard. Now if only he could get two of the most important men in his life to just stop fighting, because he really couldn't take much more of the stress. His poor heart was being torn in two.

On the one hand, there was Arthur Kirkland aka England: his on-again, off-again mortal enemy, his little rabbit, his little Canada's and America's (cause he considered that bright-eyed little colony his too damn it!) other papa, his sometimes lover, and his true soul mate (not that the stubborn little Eyebrow-Delinquent would ever admit that the two of them were destined… ah his little rabbit could be so vexing when he wasn't being adorable).

On the other hand there was Antonio Carriedo aka Spain: one of his dearest friends, his sometimes mortal enemy (life could be so _cruel_ to force dear friends into conflict!), his lazy tomato obsessed Spaniard, and his sometimes insane "friend with benefits" (_Mon Dieu_! He could still remember that time when Antonio, Gilbert, and he had gone partying near the Rhine and had woken up the next day in a Finnish farmhouse surrounded by animals, specifically lots and lots of ducks. To this day the Kingdom of France could tell any listening ear the exact dimensions of a mallard's phallus and which way it corkscrews… from deep personal knowledge.).

Somehow he was being forced to choose between the two of them because they were both too proud and too stupid to back-down from a fight. They would fight and nearly kill each other and all Francis could do was stand on the sidelines and fret and pray to a merciful God that his soul mate didn't kill one of his best friends or that his best friend didn't kill his soul mate. It was enough to drive him to ripping his hair from his head!

And everyone knows what a devastating blow _that_ would be to the world.

He brought his fist down in anger and leapt to his feet. His frustration was obvious to the various servants round his home and they scurried out of his way so as not to be trampled by their furious Nation. Francis took no notice of the distress of his servants and stormed into his rose garden. Maybe being surrounded by one of his two favorite flowers—the other the _fleur de lis_ of course—would calm his nerves and help him think of a way to get those two pigheaded beasts he held dear to his heart to stop fighting.

A noise caught his attention and he looked behind one of his rose bushes to see a small gathering of his citizens (or children as he liked to call them in his mind). For a short beat he was deeply confused as to why his dear citizens were trespassing in his garden before his excellent memory recalled that one of the smaller nobles had begged him to allow her to throw a mock wedding for her son and a friend's daughter. His angry face softened as he watched the utterly adorable and sweet little mock wedding take place.

Everything was perfect. The cake looked delicious—and apparently tasted the same if the little happy sighs of pleasure were anything to go by. The guests were all dressed up and talking quietly and civilly with each other. The sun was shining giving a perfect atmosphere. Then a piano started to play and the main event began.

Ah… the children were so precious! The little groom looked so regal and adorable as he squirmed a bit in his suit and blushed when he saw the little bride. And the bride! Ah! What sweetness! What innocence! How cute! Francis's heart nearly broke when it swelled too big for his chest as he watched the little party in their small world of happiness.

If only his friends could get along like that…

Wait…

Oh, ho…

HONHONHONHONHONHONHONHON! Maybe they could. After all, they both had children and those two little tykes would look so perfect in their outfits, that Antonio and Arthur would never see it coming. When they both would finally come to their normal bickering and senses it would be too late! Nothing joined people together more than love, and Francis was the Nation of Love for a reason.

YES!

When he was done with everything, those two would have to stop being assholes to each other and finally, FINALLY, get along.

God he was… so… brilliant. He even scared himself sometimes.

~~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was done.

After months of careful preparations, his plan was ready to be set in motion. He had the decorations, the little (adorable ) outfits for the lucky soon-to-be-married couple (America was going to look spectacular in the wedding dress!) looked _tr__é__s magnifique_, the cake and refreshments had been made, and the special marriage document for binding Nations/colonies/territories together was ready.

France frowned in thought at his checklist, something vital was missing… something that would make or break the event… what was it? The (incredibly handsome) Frenchman stroked his chin in thought, and then it hit him like Hungary with a frying pan: ALCOHOL!

Francis chuckled at his silliness. Those two needed to be good and sauced for this to go off without a hitch and he had been working his beautiful fingers to the bone these past three months—there was no way on heaven, hell, or earth that this wedding _was not _going off perfectly.

As he walked into his pantry he began pulling out the final ingredients to mix into his refreshments to serve his guests. Just as he finished the final preparations, a servant came in to tell him that Spain had arrived. France nodded and shoed the servant away, he didn't want any of his children around today while he set up lasting world peace with the Power of Love.

As he picked up the tray filled with spiked refreshments, a dark look came across his gorgeous face and he cackled… it always felt so good when a plan came together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France collapsed onto his couch. Joy spread through his veins to try and counteract the tiredness he was feeling. It had been a success. Both Arthur and Antonio had been tucked in for the night to sleep off their alcohol-induced idiocy (and let the Lord be his witness, he will never try to get those two drunk around each other again… or at the very least not in his home!) and the little newly-weds were sleeping soundly as cherubs in their bedrooms, they were a little too young for the normal, ah, first night of wedded bliss.

France managed to drag his tired body up and over to his special chest. It would be a safe place to keep his precious little Romano's and America's marriage decree. It had been some nasty work trying to disguise the thing enough that it looked like a normal human marriage document while still keeping it with the binding power of a marriage between two States. Francis grunted in a sardonic fashion as he delicately placed the document in its new home, he really need not have bothered with disguising it—Antonio and Arthur had both been so drunk by the time of the actual wedding that they wouldn't have realized it was real if the damn thing had been shoved in their faces accompanied by every wood instrument in the universe playing at full strength!

He closed and locked the chest before placing it back it its hiding spot. He stretched and headed for bed… but not before looking with a great deal of distress and anguish at what was once his immaculate and beautiful yard. The servants would have their work cut out for them in the coming weeks.

With that final thought, France headed to get some well-deserved sleep.

~~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~IMALINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IMANLINE~~~~~~~~~~

After the house was quiet and all the candle lights and fire lights and little lights here and there had been put out, Tony came out of his hiding spot. The little grey alien had collected the necessary picture documentation records of this event and would use his time-traveling device to return to his proper time. He had been paid quite handsomely by a certain Albino ex-Nation to gather the pictures from the past and make them into a PowerPoint slideshow—Tony shook his head in sadness, here he was, one of the greatest scientists his galaxy had ever seen and his talents were being used in putting together slideshows! If only America wasn't so sweet and cute, he would have blown this chunk of rock and dust so many THERJUSTSITCS ago it wouldn't even have been funny!—because apparently the aforementioned albino could only use computers for pornography searches, video games, and typing in his blog.

Of course, Tony hadn't only gotten the pictures for his employer. He was going to keep a few for his collection of Americana that America didn't know about… and never ever would.

So the last waking… individual left in his time-travelling device to get help spread chaos in the future.

And all was quite in a little chateau in Southern France.

~~~~~~~~~~ENDOFFIRSTCHAPTER~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~XD~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thus it begins! I hope everyone enjoys this story. What twists and turns will come? How about a peak?

For next chapter: Prussia goes snooping in old chests and finds certain documents, flashbacks happen with frightening regularity, and two Nations find out that they were not as single as they thought… and England tries to strangle France, but we all knew that was going to happen.

Tune in next chapter for more excitement! Love you all!

Much Love,

91REDROSES


	2. Here Comes Prussia with a Powerpoint

Chapter 2: Prussia Has a Marriage Certificate… Chaos Will Reign

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Never will either. Kind of makes me sad, I'm going to go cry now.

**A/N: This chapter mentions things that happen in Antipasti a lot. I will be doing my own version but the original still belongs to Coffee-Flavored Fate, thanks again for letting me use your plot bunny! Also… I've decided to make America a woman. Sorry and I hope this doesn't bug you too much. **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~HERE~COMES~THE~CHAOS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The conference room wasn't really that special. It was in a nice hotel located in Paris, one of many. It was nice and relaxing inside the hotel and it served food-snacks to the users of the conference room, just like all the others. It was a little large for a conference room, but otherwise was in no way special or distinct from thousands of other conference rooms in the metropolitan City of Light.

The conference room couldn't even boast uniqueness for serving as the room for the upcoming World Conference. True, there were not that many hotels that could boast hosting such notorious guests—but over the course of all the years that World Conferences had been held and all the different meeting rooms used for such guests… it was still not _that_ special.

However, it was soon to join a _Special_ class of conference rooms used by the participants of the World Conference. This little, normal room was about to receive the (dubious) honor of being a Bombed Room. Now with such a frightening title, one would assume some sort of grave violence was about to descend upon this unassuming room; however, the name referred to something much more sinister than simple mundane violence.

(Violence was a normal, expected, and—somewhat—accepted occurrence when it was meeting between Nations. Especially meetings with more than three members—not that violence was not normal among groups of Nations with less than three members, it's just that more than three members meant there would be outside participants stirring the pot, if you will. But I digress; the main point is that for Nations violence was completely normal. Most in fact no longer believed a meeting could even qualify as "rowdy" unless there had been more than five attempted homicides and/or more than twelve Nations left with broken bones and/or concussions.)

A conference room that became a Bombed Room on the other hand, meant that something extraordinary must be announced that rocks the earth on its axis. It has to be news that will somehow alter the reality and fate of the world completely.

Some other Exemplary Bombed Rooms Included:

The Conference of Babylon 146 had Rome announcing to a horrified conference that he had completely destroyed Cartridge and that the personification was dead… and then tried to hit on Egypt who had been Cartridge's lover.

The Conference of Stockholm 1456: Finland announces that he is Santa Claus, and that all the Nations have been naughty so no presents for anybody. (Nations take their presents very seriously. Finland was nearly invaded multiple times throughout the conference. Sweden was not happy. It was HIS job to invade Finland, damn it!)

The Conference of Budapest 1572: Hungary wears a dress and it is revealed to certain confused and oblivious Nations that she is, in fact, a woman. With woman naughty bits. Prussia tried to disprove this fact for some reason by tearing a hole in her top. She grabbed the first thing she could, a frying pan, and nearly beat him to death. Two things occurred in that conference: one, all male Nations agreed (secretly) that women are very scary. Two, Hungary found her weapon of choice causing many Nations to become slightly traumatized and afraid of frying pans.

The Conference of London 1917: Russia announces that his people have forced Czar Nicolas II to abdicate and that he was now a Communist country.

The Conference of Warsaw 1993: Germany realizes that he used to be the Holy Roman Empire due to Hungary accidentally hitting him in the head with a frying pan. Upon regaining his memories of his childhood and, more specifically his feelings towards a certain Italian, Germany tried valiantly to prove that Northern Italy was a woman. There were many shenanigans that followed his numerous attempts, but the one most Nations recall is the last attempt. Germany, having tried multiple times to get Italy to confess his true gender finally decided to pull "A Prussia" and rip a hole in Italy's shirt to reveal Italy's gender. Needless to say that didn't end well. It took four years for Italy to forgive Germany and another two after that to finally be in a relationship together. Romano still hasn't forgiven Germany, but since it IS Romano, no one is really surprised.

Prussia stood triumphant. He had successfully managed to climb the walls of the building and had made it into an old air conditioner duct. Now as he slowly inched himself forward, quietly humming the "Ride of the Valkyries" under his breath, he thought about how much fun the next few minutes were going to be. He got to cause chaos, disrupt a world meeting, and get a laugh at all the other Nations, what more could he want? He heard the dull roar of the meeting and his already maniacal grin stretched even further. Now all he had to do was time this _just right…_

Greece was feeling somewhat successful. He had somehow managed to make it through most of his presentation. Things had not being going so great in his home, and his boss had severely restricted his cat and napping time. It was a dark time in Greece's history… almost as bad as some of the natural disasters and riots he has lived through.

But!

His boss promised that if Greece managed to get through his presentation without falling asleep or any mishaps he wouldn't be grounded anymore. It had taken a lot of work and concentration but Greece had so far managed to get everything done right. Even the Turkish son of a whore had been cooperative! (Greece had to bribe him with some pretty unsavory promises, but it would all be worth it.) And he was nearly home free. All he had to do was do these last few sentences and then he would get some good napping and cat time.

He cleared his throat and began in his typical slow paced talking, "Now that… I have made these… points, I… feel as though this august body… can see my—"

"TOO LONG AND BORING! NOT AWESOME!"

Heavy boots landed on the Greek's back forcing him to the floor with a loud THUMP! Greece, in a great deal of pain and confusion, looked up to where his "attendant" (read: baby-sitter who would report back to his boss whether or not he had "behaved") sat, pen in hand. The look on the man's face was all the information the unlucky cat-lover needed. No nap or cat time for another month. And he would still owe Turkey those promises. With a solid "THUNK" Greece let his head collide with the floor.

"…Fuck… my… life…" he sobbed quietly into the ground.

Prussia didn't notice nor care about the tortured soul underneath his feet. He was too busy looking over the stunned Nations. God, he was good at entrances!

A groan of pain came from his younger-not-as-awesome-brother Germany, "Gilbert, how? How do you continue to get past security to interrupt these meetings? And why? Why do you do this to us? To me? Good lord wasn't the potty training you forced me through enough?!"

Prussia just laughed, "KESESSESESESE! You got it all wrong West; I am here on important business! Two members of this august body of Nations are living in sin! Now Sealand! Bring forth the document." The Nations turned and looked as a little boy in a sailor's hat jumped up out of a potted plant with a happy, "Yes sir!"

England shouted, "Damn it Peter! How many times do I have to tell you: YOU ARE NOT A NATION AND ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THESE MEETINGS!"

Sealand just stuck his tongue out, "You're not the boss of me Jerk England!"

Finland wagged his finger and gave a stern, "Peter, language."

Sealand shrank back and gave a contrite, "Sorry Mama," before going about his business of setting up a projector and a computer. No one seemed to hear Finland's weak protest of "I'm not your mother because I'm not a woman." Sweden just gave his little wife an indulgent look. Fin was so cute sometimes.

After getting the projector and computer ready, the little micronation sent a cheerful thumb up to Prussia. The Prussian cleared his throat and got ready to do what he did best: cause chaos.

Prussia started, "So a week or two ago I was going through France's stuff to try to find some good porn on threesomes to show Prissy pants and his she-male of a wife what new positions we should try next." This caused a frying pan to sail with deadly accuracy at the Albino. Luckily, Gilbert had anticipated the enthusiastic response for his little Hungarian (so feisty!) and used the Nation had been standing on as a shield. Greece let out a pained gasp from the impact and wondered why he was being punished. Prussia just continued on as if nothing had occurred, "Well as I was going through his stuff, I found an old chest and at the bottom of this old chest I found the most interesting document. A marriage document, more specifically a Binding Marriage between Two States document, show this audience what I mean Peter! Put it up!"

For the whole speech France had become paler and paler and paler before he frantically began looking for exits. At least one of the Nations involved in his little marriage was not going to be happy about losing his little girl, best to exit stage right.

Prussia's voice halted him though, "Oh Francis, where you think you going? No, no my dear friend, sit back down. We're going to need you to tell us what is happening in the pictures I got that little grey friend of America to time-travel back into the past and take." Reluctantly France sat back down while deciding that very soon he would have his revenge on that bastard Prussian.

Just then the screen flickered and up popped the image of The Marriage Document. For a moment all was silent. Then. Chaos. England was up and screaming about how the document must be a fake. Spain was cooing about how cute it was that his little tomato had a bride! The other Nations were just a mixture of confusion, anger (in the case of the bride's family), and amusement. And the newly discovered married couple? They first looked at the document in shock before slowly turning to face each other across the table. Twin looks of confusion (no anger or any other emotion just yet, the revelation was still too new and had yet to fully sink in) reflected in green eyes and blue eyes.

France gave a slow exhale, "Yes Arthur, the document is real. So please stop screaming at the top of your lungs. It won't make the document go away or be any less real. Antonio, you're absolutely right in that the marriage was absolutely adorable. Luckily it seems we have pictures?" Here he looked at a smug Prussia who gave a nod. Prussia then gave a nod to Peter to start the presentation.

The first slide to pop up read simply: How did this happen?

Everyone turned to look at France. He shrugged before saying, "If I'm going to sit here and tell everyone the story, then I want a promise that no one can attack me. It was a long time ago and if everyone would be so kind as to notice that both Arthur and Antonio signed off on the marriage so it's completely legal." Getting nods France began his story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BREAKINTHEACTIONTOBEGINTHEST ORY~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well first off you have to understand that when I hatched this plan back in 1647, it was because England and Spain were (and sometimes still are) complete and utter morons. Always fighting and going back and forth and poor me in the middle of all this! Ugh! It was enough to make me almost pull out my beautiful hair. Now one day when the torment of it all was about to drive me to horrible lengths I espied some of my lovely little citizens outside playing a mock wedding for their little youngsters and realized that all I needed was to wed your families together and POOF! No more useless, silly fighting."

At this Prussia clicked and went to the next slide which had a picture of France, England and Spain sitting down at a small table outside having drinks. France continued, "Now all I had to do was invite you both over and get you both calm enough to consider how cute a mock wedding would be. That was easy enough because I made sure to spike your drinks."

England made a squawking sound like a chicken that just had a feather plucked off and said, "H-how dare you sir! In what way did you think SPIKING MY DRINK—"

France snorted and waved a hand, "Oh calm down Arthur. It was one of the few options I had open to make sure you didn't try to kill Antonio, _mon cher_, but if you'd rather I'd tied you both up let me know so our nights together can have a little more zest."

England made more squawking sounds, but France ignored them. After being together with England for so long France was quite used to the odd sounds of disbelief that England could make.

France continued as the next picture clicked into place, this one of France showing off the little wedding dress he had made for America, ah that little dress was so cute! He cleared his throat and said, "So after I had the two of you relaxed with some nice drinks, I mentioned about the little mock weddings and Antonio was very excited to see little Lovino as a groom. Arthur you got just as excited after I showed you the little dress for America. As well you should, I _slaved_ over that dress. Of course, you agreed and both went off to get your little charges for the wedding."

The next slide clicked on, this one of Arthur furiously signing the marriage contract. France snorted and said, "Ah yes. And here is your proof that I did NOT force you to sign anything."

England grumbled and France, very annoyed with his lover continued, "Oh in fact it was very simple. After Spain signed it with no fuss all I had to do was coo over him." France brought his hands up to his face, took on a facial expression of a love-sick Twilight fan-girl staring at a poster of Edward and sweetly cooed, "Oh Antonio~ how many titles you have! Oh how important you must be! Oh how strong you are! Oh how powerful you are! Oh Antonio! You are so impressive." Dropping his hands and glaring a bit at England, France snapped, "You couldn't write down your many impressive titles fast enough after I did that. Pride before the fall and all that, ah Arthur?"

Up until this point, America had been fairly silent. Now she burst out, "Really Artie! Really?! You signed me into a marriage because you wanted to _IMPRESS FRANCE WITH HOW MANY TITLES YOU HAD?!_"

England just blushed and shifted before mumbling about different times and trying to slide further down in his chair. France thought the embarrassment served him right. Then came the next slide of Arthur arriving with baby America and France just KNEW he had to twist the knife deeper.

"So this little scene is what happened when Arthur showed up America. Notice all the detail I had put into the arch where the ceremony was held everyone. As well as the little feast and the tiered cake in the corner—lemon zest by the way, for those of you who are curious—and the little petals marking the trail up to the altar. I'm still open for weddings in case anyone needs a wedding planner."

Russia now decided to throw his two cents in, "I'm surprised you didn't find it suspicious England. All that work and you never thought it was a trap?"

France cut in before England could defend himself, "Oh no Russia dear you've got it wrong. See Arthur was a little suspicious, but all I had to do was basically remind Arthur how silly it'd be for anyone to think I could trick the Great Arthur Kirkland and how he'd see through me in an instant and he went a long with the plan hook, line and sinker."

After saying this America glared even harder at England who just continued to try and sink further and further down in his chair. France wasn't sure how much farther he could go before England just fell out of the chair completely. The other Nations just laughed at England's misfortune and idiocy.

Then the next slide came, this one was of America in her wedding dress. France couldn't help but sigh a little. She really had been too precious. That tiny little body wrapped up in silk and bows and ruffles. Big blue eyes blinking in a cherubic face surrounded by pretty flowers crowned on her golden head. Oh, and he remembered that adorable little lisp she had and what a sweet conversation they had about love and marriage. The memory filled his heart with a warmth and peace that he didn't get to have very often. Truly his little daughter was a beauty second to none.

Ah, but France wasn't the only one overcome with emotions. Everyone else was also cooing over how adorable America was in her dress. All the female Nations, China, and Japan appeared to be having seizures from the overdose of cuteness while all the male Nations were pretty much just stunned by the image. Belarus was actually smiling shyly before taking quick peaks at Russia (obviously thinking of her own hoped for marriage). Poland was squealing to Lithuania about how "totes cute that dress was and he like SO needed to have one of those like right now, so we have to go like wedding dress shopping after this right Liet?" Even Cuba was blushing a bit from the cute image.

France cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure anyone who wants pictures can talk to Gilbert about getting a few. Now this is obviously just America in her little wedding dress. Next slide please."

The next slide elicited just as much cries of "CUTE" as the first one had. This one was of Lovino in his little groom outfit, helping to pick out the rings. France looked over and saw a horrified and embarrassed Lovino start hitting Spain with a folder as Spain tried to hug and coo at the volatile Italian. France decided to make his summery of this slide brief too so that Spain didn't die by Lovino's hands. "So ah this slide," France said quickly, "is of little Lovino helping me to pick out the rings since he said Arthur had no taste in such things." He made the motion to go onto the next slide.

This one, France believed, was the best one. There was little Lovino, moments after helping America lift her veil off. His eyes were wide as his face was red as a tomato. The look in his eyes was one of pure adoration and you could tell that Lovino had no idea anymore what was going on. The only thing his eyes could see was the little face of America smiling back at him. Spain was standing next to Lovino and obviously crying (as he was now actually, the man could become so emotional). England stood behind America, drunk off his ass and looking like he was seconds from falling over. France in the middle of the two children, hands in motion as he gravely stated the beauties of love and the happiness of marriage.

France sighed, "Ah yes. The wedding part was splendid. At this point Arthur and Antonio were far too drunk to really do anything useful so America ended up walking her father down the aisle instead of the other way around. And once Lovino lifted her veil, ah! You could tell that for him, it was love at first sight. What made the whole ordeal even cuter is that Lovino was so overcome with his wife's beauty that he missed me saying, 'You may now kiss the bride.' America ended up leaning over and kissing him instead. It was so sweet."

Surprisingly no one was saying anything derisive. France supposed that even Nations could still be overcome by the beauty of love.

"Sunlight," Lovino whispered the word in some kind of trance. His eyes met and then darted quickly away from America's eyes. "I remember the kiss," Lovino stammered, "you smelled like sunlight. But I just thought it was a dream."

America blushed and looked down at her lap while Lovino looked away from her, also blushing.

France gave a smile and again motioned for the next slide. The next slide held a picture of a juice-soaked America being protected by Lovino from an irate France. _Ah_, he remembered, _the dress I spent ages on ruined by Drunken Idiot 1 and Drunken Idiot 2. Well I'm going to rake these two over the coals and I won't need to do more than tell the truth!_

"Ah yes, and this is how the dress I slaved over," France said with a scowl, "was ruined by idiots one and two. Somehow the two managed to shake the table a pitcher of juice was sitting on hard enough to knock it over and its content fell all over poor America. The poor little thing started to cry from the coldness of the drink. AH! But then her gallant husband rushed over to make sure I didn't take my fury out on her. Isn't that sweet of him?"

The other Nations made noises of agreement while glaring at England and Spain. Those two Nations simply blushed and squirmed under the disapproval of the peers. The next slide popped up on the screen. This one held France using a table leg to beat both England and Spain. France smiled at that one, which was an especially good memory.

Smiling France chirped, "Ah yes. Due to being incurable idiots, England and Spain broke one of my table's legs off. So I showed them what I thought about that by beating them with it. It was good thing."

Snickering filled the room. It _was _a good thing.

The next slide kicked on and showed Romano feeding America a little icing flower. France cooed, "I wasn't around for this, but most likely this was the two little babies trying to feed each other considering all my dishes and silverware was destroyed by England and Spain." Another glare at the two embarrassed countries. By now all the female Nations and Japan and China were in near cuteness overload comas and were making barely audible grunts as their bodies could no longer quite withstand the cuteness of the little couple. Even the men were starting to be worn out from cute children.

France made a hand gesture for another slide to pop up. Peter shook his head and mouthed, "Nothing left." All the Nations just kind of sat and basked in the cuteness and sweetness of the marriage before Prussia decided to be an asshole one more time.

"So," he started, "what is Italy going to do now that half of the country is married into an empire with the only current superpower in the world."

One heartbeat passed a second heartbeat. And then chaos reigned again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ENDOFCHAPTER~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And thus this chapter. Too tired to say anything else. Please review and I hope you all like it.

Much Love,

91REDROSES


	3. Here Comes Brothers with Issues

Chapter 3: Married Couple Has Doubts… Should They Get Married?

_Disclaimer: Wow, no one really does read these huh? I had a contest with a secret word and prizes in a disclaimer for one of my other stories, and no one noticed? You know what? I'm going to keep doing this until somebody notices! Today's word: Easter Eggs, hint hint. I don't own Hetalia or their characters. All mentions of real people and newspaper are used without malicious intent and I don't own them either. _

**A/N: Rejoice for this has come out a lot sooner than my last update! To PirateQueen the anon reviewer- glad you liked the update and really glad that you thought it was epic. Hope this new update doesn't disappoint either. To Coffee-Flavored Fate- Hope that you are still not regretting letting me borrow this and write my story from your first chapter. You are incredible.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ON~WITH~THE~CHAPTER~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"…Should _Great Britain_ really be able to dictate OUR national interests?"

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"This is an outrage! For our beloved America to be forced into marriage against her will—"

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"Well as an Italian American I couldn't be more thrilled. I'm getting to see a union between both my home countries! It's like I'm a kid from the Parent Trap or something."

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"…the Congressman has been one of many to call for immediate diplomatic cuts from England, France and Italy—"

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"We are still waiting on word from the President on what this might mean for an Independent Amer—"

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"Where is the America from MY childhood? This Presidency—"

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America let her head hit her desk with a dull thud and a deep, painful sigh. Canada winced and looked at his twin sister with pity. Her normally organized office (organized because of White House staff, not because America herself really cared about order) was in complete disarray from all the newspapers, petitions, proposed bills, and enraged or congratulatory letters from her citizens that clamored for her attention and space. Canada got up from the couch in her office and carefully navigated his way to his sister's side. Once there (and only managing to knock over one pile of papers), he rubbed his sister's back trying to get out all the knots he felt. She gave a small moan and looked up at him with tired thanks before her eyes returned to roam over the multitudes of papers.

"It seems like half of my people want to declare war or cut all ties to Europe and the other half want me to have another wedding so they can watch me be a beautiful bride!" America said while rubbing her hands across her face. America's eyes began to fill with tears that she blinked back and she hissed, "My head is killing me! I haven't been this out of sorts since the elections in 2016 three years ago. My boss doesn't know what to do, the media won't stop howling one way or the other, and I'm just so confused! I HATE THIS!"

"Now calm down _mon chaton_; throwing a fit will not make you feel better," came a voice from the window.

Both twins turned in unison to see France climbing in through a window. America's mumbled, "How does he _always_ get through my security," was barely audible over Canada's loud cry of, "You bastard! How dare you show your face right now when this is your fault?!"

France seemed completely unruffled by Canada's outburst; he had taken care of the Canadian since he was a child and knew that the usually polite Canadian could be quite loud over certain subjects like hockey, pancakes, and his twin. France gave Canada a brief scolding glance before turning his attention back towards the only female in the room.

"Alfreda, I know this is a difficult time for you, but yelling and making a scene will not help," with a gentle touch, France picked up America's hand and led her over to the couch. He continued to speak in a calm, soft manner, "Now _mon chaton_, the best way to feel better is to figure out what YOU want. So do you want to marry little Romano?"

America just looked confused while Canada seemed even more mutinous. However, France didn't want to say nor do anything that would make America think something was being decided for her. Most nations didn't understand Alfreda behind America. They didn't understand how she could be both so rebellious and so loyal. A perfect case in point for her (what some had called at the time) blind obedience was the Trail of Tears.

When America was forced to "relocate" her native population, Alfreda was horrified. He remembered her writing him bitter letters with tear stains on them about her long and heated debates with President Jackson about the immoral actions of imposing the Indian Removal Act. However, when the president put his foot down and told her the law was going to be enforced, America bitterly bowed her head and participated in the removal. France knew that parts of Alfreda died for every innocent life loss on that hellish trail, but America carried through.

But then there was rebellious America. The best case for this would be her feelings and relationship with Lithuania after the First World War. It was clear right from the start that the two had a special spark, and America's bosses tried to capitalize on that spark. They pushed her to enter into a real relationship with Lithuania for strategic purposes (what with Lithuania being so close to a communist Russia) and for other classified reasons that America never shared with him. Alfreda was horrified. She knew that Lithuania wanted to go home eventually and didn't like how her bosses were trying to meddle in her love life.

She told her bosses no.

This made them confused and upset and they began to push and push her to enter a relationship with Lithuania. They would set up dates for the two nations; mention how great a guy Lithuania was… they tried everything. And all their meddling did was make America angrier and angrier until finally one of her bosses decided to order her into a relationship with Lithuania. This order made America insane with rage. She began doing very risky practices, making risky investments, and doing everything she could to avoid Lithuania up to abandoning her duties to help her bosses. Was it any real surprise that the Great Depression hit? America basically forced herself and everyone around her into a huge economic decline all so that she could avoid being forced into a relationship with a person that she liked because she had felt pressured into the relationship.

So…

France had to be careful to avoid making America feel as though Alfreda was being pushed into something or his whole marriage plan would end worse than the Hindenburg. Thus he would need to use all his cunning to gently lead America to the opinion that she wanted to be with Romano and no one was forcing her into the relationship.

(It helped that America had matured since the Great Depression and was less prone to such self- and world-destructive behavior.)

While France silently thanked all the gods and stars he knew for a more mature America, the nation had come to a conclusion about her "marriage."

She cleared her throat slightly and said, "I-I admire Lovino. I think he is not given enough credit usually. He works really hard for the people he cares about, even if he tries not to show it. And I could never get over how he was willing to sacrifice himself for his little brother. Twice!"

France agreed with her on that last account. Lovino Vargas, for all the screaming obscenities and rude behavior to anyone possessing a Y-chromosome and appearances to being a coward, could be remarkable noble and brave at times for those he loved. The first time he showed such nobility was his willingness to die so that Feliciano could live as the one Italy. During the _Risorgimento_, there was the question of what to do about the two Italian personifications. When they had been many tiny states, the North and the South personifications could both survive; however, all the nations theorized that if they were to ever unify into one nation, one of the two would have to die.

(In fact, France knew that Austria would use such a threat of death often to keep Feliciano from trying to rebel and rejoin his brother in the South.)

When the _Risorgimento _happened, it looked like it would be the elder brother who would survive. Feliciano had gotten a terrible wound during the fighting for the Papal States and Garibaldi, the great Italian General, was known to prefer Romano over his brother, saying that since Romano came from humbler background he would be a better personification for Italy. But when it came time for Romano to take his place as the one Italy, he refused. He stated that he would rather his little brother live. This selfless act sent shock waves through the community of personifications. France remembers telling America about it while she was recovering from her Civil War; the look on her face was one of respect and pleasure. She told France that she liked the idea that such noble men remained in this world.

(Of course, Romano did not die. Cavour managed to do some political footwork to keep the Southern personification alive and France would be forever grateful for that more than anything else, even Nice.)

The second great act of sacrifice was when the Allies had occupied Italy. They were all tired and angry at fighting this war and getting angrier at the long time it was taking to invade "soft underbelly of the axis." When they finally managed to take all of Italy, the Allies had been fighting long, grueling battles for five months to get what had been considered an easy target… it was no surprise that a few members of the Allies were ready to take their frustrations out on the Italian twins, specifically North Italy who had given them the most trouble.

Romano got in their way. Bravely he stepped up and said that they could do anything they wanted to him as long as they left his little brother alone. France wished he could say that because of his bravery, Romano wasn't harmed. That would be a lie though. Two of the Allies in particular were feeling especially brutalized and ill-tempered due to heavy civilian and military causalities from the Axis. They decided that since Romano offered and had agreed to _anything_… it was open season on the little Italian.

Again America had been impressed by the Southern Italian's bravery and inner strength.

This made France's job so much easier. America loved a self-sacrificing hero and Romano had proven to be such a hero twice. However he wasn't quite done gently nudging her.

France prompted, "He is also quite handsome, non?"

America's blush was all the "yes" France needed.

France decided to push a little more, "So if you think he is so handsome, and wonderful, and heroic, why do you seem so dissatisfied? I know you don't like being pushed into things like that minor deal with Lithuania…"

America interrupted him, "No Francis! It's not that! I've matured since then and I wouldn't totally hate being married and Romano's a great guy and a wonderful chef—OMG his cooking is beyond incredible!—but I just… why would _he_ be interested in me?"

This last statement caused both France and Canada to look at America as if she'd stated that she could see and talk to England's "special" friends. Canada, after a moment, snorted, "Oh c'mon Al. Now is not the time to be fishing for compliments about what a great catch you are and how any man would be lucky to have you and blah blah blah."

America shook her head forcibly, "No! That's not what I meant. I can understand why Italy would want to marry America; what I meant was… would Lovino want to marry _Alfreda._"

She shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed her question. "I don't want to marry him because he wants to be married to mighty, powerful, wealthy America," she blurted out, "I want him to marry me because he thinks Alfreda is kind of a cool girl, but let's be serious. Lovino is a sophisticated, opera-loving, art-producing, great cooking, smooth 'in heaven your lover is Italian' guy. I am loud, blunt, always having a yo-yoing waist line, don't really get operas, not as bad a cook as England—but is that saying much?—girl who has managed to mangle every relationship she has ever been in. Why would a guy who could sweet-talk anyone want me?"

France looked with deep concern at America. He knew that one of the reasons she tended to be so loud and in-your-face was to hide a lot of insecurities, but he hadn't realized how deep they were. He lifted a hand to try and comfort her, but she flinched away.

"Look, I got to go. My boss wants another meeting with me before we get ready to head over to Italy to talk to Romano, Feliciano, and their boss about this mess. Can you guys just… show yourself out or something?" And with that dismissal, America left.

France gave a small sigh and stood up. He looked at Canada and said, "Well I guess I shall be off then." He left a space hanging between them. Raising Canada had given him a sort of sixth sense when Canada had something to say. France waited.

Canada looked square at France with probing eyes. His entire stance was stiff and his face had tightened. Light shined off his glasses, temporarily hiding his eyes from France. The situation was tense and France did his best to breathe and pretend he was unbothered by the heavy, dark atmosphere. Finally Canada came to a decision and spoke, "She's my sister Francis."

France tried not to wince; it was never a good thing when his little Mathieu used his human name instead of Papa or his country name. Never good.

"She likes Romano, and unlike other members of our family, I'm willing to give her relationship with that Italian a shot. She hasn't been with anyone other than the occasional one-night stand in a long time and I think she'd be happier in a long-term relationship with someone who really cares about her." Canada's stance seemed to soften as his voice grew a little more distant and contemplative. "You know as much as she tries to be pragmatic or 'I'm Miss Independent and I Don't Need Someone in My Life,' Al believes in love conquering all and soul mates and true happy endings. It's the Disney inside her. So," Canada came back down to earth now, "yeah, I'm willing to let Romano have his shot at making my sister happy."

Now the temperature dropped as Canada's quiet voice began to grow, "But. If that Italian son-of-a-bitch, thinks for even a millisecond that he can just 'hit it and quit it' and leave my sister like she's some two-dollar whore? Or if he thinks he's gonna lock her up and run her country for her because he's the husband and she's his wife? Then! That son-of-a-bitch and I are gonna have some problems. And if he thinks that just because I like to be polite, he's gonna get away with any of that bullshit? Well! He can just fucking see WHY motherfucking RUSSIA IS FUCKING SCARED OF ME IN HOCKEY SEASON WHEN I BREAK HIS NECK OPEN, PULL OUT HIS SPINAL CORD AND THEN SHOVE IT THROUGH HIS ASS!"

With that Canada seemed to calm down and stroll to the door leaving a slightly shell-shocked France in his wake. However, just as the Canadian reached the door he stopped, and with his back towards France, said in a low voice, "And don't think I'll forget who set up this little marriage if it goes south Francis. Don't think I'll forget you. I won't tell you _what_ will happen to you then… I'll let your imagination fill in the blanks… but just know, that whatever you imagine? It'll be ten times worse in reality."

With that Canada left the room.

~~~~~~A~~~~~DAY~~~~LATER~~~~~~IN~~~~~~ITALY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France silently slid into the room as Romano threw one hell of a tantrum. France eyed Spain and Feliciano as they both tried to calm Romano unsuccessfully. Luckily for them France was here to save the day (after a grueling fast-paced plane flight) and get the little bridegroom on track to being a romantic husband for his little girl (both so that Alfreda will be happy, and Mathieu won't kill his beloved Papa).

He cleared his throat and started in his normal, subdued way, "AH~ the beauty of the Italian landscape! I see that you are filled with vim and vigor _mon tomate_! Ah love is in the air and you look so cute like GACK!" France's face had a certain unexpected meeting with a heavy clay pot. It was not the best of first impressions, but France took some relief in that the aim had been a little high and Romano had missed breaking his nose. Again. For the—ah what would it have been now?—thirty-second time?

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! IT IS YOUR FAULT THAT I'M IN THIS FUCKING MESS! GO SHIT YOURSELF AND DIE IN IT YOU MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKER!" Romano panted a little bit from the high-pitched scream which surely sent a few dogs deaf.

(Spain and Feliciano were a little confused. How could France like to make love to his mother AND suck on a man's penis at the same time? They would later try to figure out the contradiction while making tomato sauce from Spain's prized tomatoes. Their conclusion? France's mother was either a hermaphrodite, or was a transsexual. Either way, it explained a lot of what made France… well, France.)

France managed to stagger back to standing with a groan causing Romano to begin to look for another thing to throw at him. Seeing the immediate danger one of his best friends, Spain quickly tried to intervene. "Romano, don't be like this!" Spain softly cooed to the irate Italian man, "Why are you so angry? _Tu eres no muy lindo!_ America is a sweet and beautiful young lady, what's got you so mad?"

Romano took a deep breath. He had to remember he was dealing with idiots here. Slowly he tried to explain, "It's because she is fucking America. If she was Belgium or even Hungary this wouldn't be a problem, assholes!"

His audience of dumbfucks still looked confused; Romano prayed for patience and tried again.

"She is America. That means she is one of, if not The, most powerful, wealthy nations around. Do you know how my _fratello's _and mine parliament has been reacting? Once they got over the fear that we would be attacked by her enemies, all the idiots could think about is what we're going to do with her money and military! They think that somehow, just because I'M the husband, America is going to become an obedient, submissive wife and somehow Italy will become a fucking empire!"

The two most frightening things about Romano's speech were the limited cursing and the way he hissed each word. Romano yelling was common and barely something to be noticed. Romano's cursing? Same thing, not important.

Romano NOT raising his voice and NOT cursing? That was bad.

Spain pushed valiantly forward, "So? You know she's not going to be like that. I know you and your brother don't want to become an empire like your grandfather, or me, or Austria… that's fine! I doubt America really wants to become one either." Spain stoically ignored France's comment of "You mean become an empire again, she already was one." The tan, green-eyed man soldiered on, "I think you two will be very happy together! Not to mention how cute you both are! OH SO CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE—"

The other three sighed as Spain got stuck in his loops of "CUTE!" again. This time Feliciano tried to calm his brother down. He went over and softly said, "Ve, Romano we can just tell them no. It'll be alright. I'm sure you and America will be very happy together."

Romano gave a snort before mumbling, "There have been mentions of America marrying you… not me, to make it easier on the Americans because they are making such a fuss over her marrying me. They think if it's changed to you they'll be happier."

"Oh _fratello_," Feliciano face and voice were filled with sadness for his brother.

Romano just brushed him off and snapped, "Don't act so surprised_ fratello_, Northern Italy has always been the better catch. And you know America! She always wants the best damn thing. Of course you would be better for her than me."

France brought his hand sharply against the wall with a loud "CRACK!" He gave a glare at Romano, "First off Lovino, I will not allow you to be so hard on yourself. You're a great catch and have many wonderful qualities about you! You mustn't be so horrible about yourself. And secondly," here France drew himself up and stomped over to Romano, "I will NOT let you slander Alfreda. Do not go throwing around suggestions that she is so cruel as to pick one brother over the other. She is a good-hearted person and will be a wonderful, caring wife if you let her in." The last part held a beseeching tone. France really did hate to see the self-hatred in Romano's eyes and the cruel words he spoke about America.

Romano just gave an annoyed sound before sighing in defeat. "Look," he said with a tired air, "I need to get ready to meet America in a couple of days. I'm heading to Rome to start the preparations with Prime Minister Pantalone. That Venetian may be a mix of Berlusconi and the world's worst miser, but at least he's willing to listen when I make suggestions."

With that Romano stomped out, only briefly stopping to grab Spain (still chanting "cute, cute, cute") before leaving. France gave a small sigh. "Ah, I wish your brother could be as confident as he acts. What do… you… think… Feliciano?" France turned around to see no little Feliciano. He scratched his head and was about to leave before spotting the wayward ditz studying a map of the world.

Feliciano cocked his head and studied the map with open, serious eyes. He purred, "Ve… you know Big Brother France… I think you are trying to be helpful now. I know in the past your goal was to unite a world with love, and that's good ve! But now, now you are trying to do good for my_ fratello_, si?"

Feliciano—no—Northern Italy looked at France from the corner of his eye. The look chilled France and he felt himself nodding his head so vigorously that he felt it may come off.

Northern Italy's eyes returned to the map and he brought a finger up and began to gently trace the curves of America's lands. Normally the gesture would have been sensual, but somehow the light touch seemed like a threatening brand designed to burn America.

"Lovino has done much for me over our lives. He has protected me, taught me lessons, fed me; cared for me… he is a good brother. And I'm sure America is a good girl, but I worry France. I worry that America can be so _careless_ sometimes with her actions and words. I know my _fratello_, and I will let you in on a little secret. Lovino loves blondes. He has always held a fascination for them, and I think it was because part of him remembers marrying America and falling for her. So if she _accidentally I'm sure she would never do so on purpose, _but if she accidentally hurts my _fratello_… that would make me very sad. And when I get sad, sometimes, accidents occur."

Northern Italy paused, and managed to pull a stiletto knife from somewhere on his person. He started using the knife to trace America.

"Did you know," Northern Italy continued in a conversational purr, "how easy it is to accidentally make something poisonous? Oh I know America is a strong country and has an even stronger stomach—England raised her after all!—but there are always little soft parts on even the most mighty of dragons. And there are ways for little mice to creep in, and gnaw on those soft parts. Poison was always one of my _fratello's_ and mine greatest talents, I'm sure if I wasn't careful… well, a little slip and who knows how sick America might find herself afterwards if she _accidentally_ breaks my brother's heart."

And with that, the stiletto knife was plunged deep into the heartlands of America. France gulped and wondered if he should call America to find out if she was okay.

Northern Italy blinked in surprise and gave a little laugh, "OOPS! Clumsy me! Well, I should go Big Brother France. I need to help Lovino prepare for Ms. America's arrival." With that he skipped over to France and gave the tense, frightened man a hug. Before pulling away Northern Italy whispered, "Oh and France? I think for your sake as well, you should hope America doesn't do anything stupid. After all, she's a pretty girl—and you know I'm more lenient on women—and has England's training to protect her stomach… you don't."

And then Italy skipped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SCARY~ITALY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Two brothers, both threatening bodily harm to France and his precious little lovebirds if the slightest thing went wrong in their sibling's courtship…

It was okay; after all France just had to make sure that Romano and America fell in love and didn't do anything stupid, like Romano becoming embarrassed and cursing out America, hurting her feelings. Or America in a moment of "not reading the atmosphere" saying something hurtful and tactless and hurting Romano's feelings. Both of those events were unlikely, right?

"_Oh god,_" France thought, "_I'm doomed!_"

~~~~~~~~~~~THE~END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading and please review. And if anyone can guess what the allusion I'm making with the Italian Prime Minister is, they will get a valuable prize. Please let me know in your reviews what you think the correct answer is and we shall see if there are any Italian majors out there who are reading my story. Probably not… but…

ANYWAY!

Much Love,

91REDROSES


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